


Here When I Wake

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's beginning to breathe again, and George isn't entirely sure what to do with that - except for to reach for what he's wanted for some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here When I Wake

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings / Content: Age disparity, grief/bereavement, language, blink and you'll miss it desired twincest, mentioned past canon and non-canon relationships. Remus didn't die.

George rubbed one eye and tripped over something as he waded through the rubbish on his floor. He swore to himself as his toes stung with pain but didn't bother to bend down and pick up whatever it was.  
  
He had no idea of the time – it seemed to run away from him without much provocation. He knew he'd gone to bed later than usual and the bottle of vodka sitting on the coffee table had kept him company into the night. The sky had already been shot with pink when he went to bed, but that could have been the alcohol warping his vision.  
  
He'd been no stranger to late nights in his life – there were times at school where he'd bounce right into whatever lessons were first the next morning after creeping back into the school an hour before. He'd always started to flag after lunch, but a well-timed headache could put him in bed within half an hour if he played his cards right. They'd taken it in turns. Both of them couldn't be ill at the same time like that without raising suspicion. Fred had always been better at staying awake.  
  
_Better at most things._  
  
With that happy thought, George groaned and fell down on the sofa.  
  
He supposed he'd been lucky to never really had the cold touch of grief upon him until he was twenty-one. But it had been one hell of a shock to suddenly have to wake up in a world where his other half was missing and not just because he'd been out all night with a girl.  
  
They were identical to the last freckle, nobody could tell them apart. The only difference was in sexuality and neither had made that public knowledge. They enjoyed winding people up and confusing everyone. Why hand them a tool with which to end their fun?  
  
It was even worse that the one person who knew that he liked men was dead. There'd been no hiding that from Fred. George wasn't sure he'd ever really tried. But it had been three years since his brother's death and there was no replacement, no one to tell his deepest, darkest secrets to – and nobody to create more with.  
  
It had been a long, slow process to get to the point where he even got up – no matter how late – rather than operating out of his pit. He'd paid Verity to work as shop manager and used the only effort he had on simply replicating stock. Inventing had only recently come back to him. He'd worked like that for a year and a half. When Verity needed annual leave he shut the shop and took the financial hit. He had enough money. The Ministry had issued a pension for Fred's death and none of the rest of the family would touch it.  
  
But one day he'd woken up and, even though he'd believed it never would, the crushing pressure on his chest seemed to have lessened overnight. And it had steadily improved.  
  
His return to the living had been greeted with intense relief from his family, a relief so smothering he thought he saw less of them now than he ever had whilst he'd been hiding in his flat.  
  
“George?”  
  
He'd not heard anyone enter. He could still drift so far from reality that he didn't recognise anything going on around him. It was disconcerting to experience.  
  
“Hmm?” He looked up and met Remus' stare.  
  
Remus. Lovely, frayed and lonely Remus. George took him in, standing in his shop robes. After Fred had died, George had taken the opportunity to rid the business of one of the only ideas that he'd never been too keen on – the insanely bright shop uniform. He'd replaced them with calmer, low key blue robes. They suited Remus. Having grown up seeing the wizard in ever-decreasing levels of shabbiness, it was good to see him in a finely fitted and well-made robe. Clothes he deserved to wear. His hair was greying more than ever and his skin today was so pale he would have given a vampire a run for his money, but he was Remus, and unbeknownst to anyone else, George loved him.  
  
“George?”  
  
He had gone again without knowing it. He shook his head and swallowed.  
  
“Sorry. What's up?”  
“Oh... we were just a bit worried. It's late and you hadn't appeared, so just thought I'd come and check on you. Shall I put the kettle on?”  
“Yes please.”  
  
George let his head tip back onto the back cushions as Remus deftly skirted around the mess of the flat and entered the kitchen. He only tidied up when his mother came round and she'd given up visiting too often. It hurt her to see him – see their things. It was better when he went to The Burrow.  
  
“It's been a good day so far. The nice weather is bringing them out.”  
  
He looked out of the window for the first time since waking. His eyes ached but he could see that the sky was blue and it made a nice change from all the rain they'd had. He made himself get up and push the old sash window up. The air which came in was cool and fresh and George shivered.  
  
_Standing here in your pants._ He cringed. He was standing in front of Remus Lupin in some old pants with Christmas Trees on and a hole in the gusset. It was March.  
  
“I'll just get dressed.”  
Remus laughed. “George, this is your flat. I came in. I don't care if you're dressed or not, I just want to make you a cup of tea.”  
“You're too good to me.” George hesitated, arms folded over his chest. He turned to Remus. “I mean that.”  
  
Remus shook his head and said nothing.  
  
“I might even push the boat out today,” George mused. “Have a shower.”  
“I'm not _royalty_ ,” Remus said pointedly, smiling to himself as he gave the brewing tea a stir.  
“What can I say, I'm spoiling you.” George winked.  
  
Sometimes these days it was easy to be like his old self again. Until he remembered that it could never be like before.  
  
“I'll be back in a jif,” he said decisively. “Do you need to get back down there?”  
“No, I'm taking a half day. Which I forgot to tell you about.” Remus wore a regretful expression.  
  
George liked to think he was a good employer. He allowed his staff as much holiday as they needed and as long as they sorted out cover between themselves, he didn't particularly care when they took it. That trust had never been misplaced yet. They seemed to respect him more for it.  
  
“You don't need to tell me, I've told you that a thousand times.”  
“It's just... I'm not... it's so odd for an employer to be so casual. Or to be employed at all.”  
  
It had seemed a natural choice for Remus to come and work with him once the fog of bereavement had cleared. He too had lost during the Battle. But he had a mischief-making past and if there was anybody who would be understanding of his Lycanthropy, it was one of the friends he'd made during the war. George was happy that he'd helped the man out of financial difficulty and gave him a safe environment in which to work.  
  
He also made the best tea on the Alley.  
  
Turning on the shower, George wriggled out of his holey pants and chucked them on top of an overflowing laundry bin. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was long and messy – loaded with grease. His chin was spotty and he had something around his mouth: probably the takeaway he'd shovelled in at two in the morning.  
  
“Ridiculous.” He muttered to himself as he stepped under the spray, glad it was hot.  
  
He moved to the end of the bath and opened the tiny window which was the only source of light in the whole bathroom. The same sweet, sunny air came in.  
  
George stepped back under the water and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. It was peaceful, being immersed in the pounding stream. His hearing wasn't too terrible given that one of his ears had been severed off, but there was no denying that it had happened. It was part of the reason he'd been content to let his hair grow longer, to hide the ugliness that was the entire left side of his face following the curse.  
  
Severus Snape had been lauded as many things but George was still bitter that nobody thought twice about the ear severing which had occurred.  
  
After about five minutes enjoying the peace and quiet he forced himself to lather up his hair and reach for the shower gel. He had a perfunctory wash of all the necessary places and rinsed the suds off his head.  
  
With a final scrub to his face he turned the water off and clambered out into what had become a frigidly cold bathroom.  
  
“Fuck.” He saw there were no towels hanging up because, as he then remembered, they were all buried in the overflowing laundry basket. “Fuck it.”  
  
He looked at the closed door, knowing that Remus was beyond it. Once upon a time, he might have had the bottle to strut out there stark bollock naked and make Remus appreciate the view. Or, at the very least, entice him into appreciating the view. But the thought of doing that whilst shivering and depressed wasn't exactly his idea of fun.  
  
But the reality was he had no towel and nothing to wear. He took a deep breath and pulled the door open.  
  
“Remus?”  
“Mm?”  
“Can you get me a towel? In the little airing cupboard over there.”  
“Sure.”  
  
He waited for Remus to cross the room and open the door. “Er, there's nothing in there, George.”  
“Shit, it's even longer than I thought since I last did some washing.”  
  
Remus laughed. “Here.” He grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and handed it through to him.  
  
Grateful, George threaded it around his waist and stepped out into the room. He hoped he didn't imagine it, but Remus' eyes slid down his body before looking away. He thought he might have even seen a slight blush.  
  
That put a smile on his face and he dressed quickly before heading back to the sitting room. On the coffee table, a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich had replaced his empty vodka bottle.  
  
“Oh, god, I love you.” _Idiot. Why would you say that? Why?_  
“You're too kind.” Remus sat down, nursing his own cup of tea. “But you looked like you needed it.”  
“I do.” He took a grateful bite and moaned as bread, bacon, butter and ketchup rolled around his mouth. “So fucking good.”  
  
He polished it off in only a few bites and then took a deep swig of tea.  
  
“So what are you doing with your afternoon off, then?”  
“I've just got some things to do. I was meant to do them yesterday, but we got so busy I stayed on.”  
  
George frowned. “If you had stuff to do you should have said. I would've gone down and covered. I know I said I was inventing but really I sat and scratched my arse for three hours.”  
“It's no matter, honestly.” Remus shook his head. “Nothing that can't be done today.”  
“Is it something fun, at least?”  
“Uh... no, not particularly. Visiting the dead is never a riot.”  
“Sometimes I have the biggest laughs at Fred's grave than I do anywhere else.”  
“You talk to him?”  
“I know, it's mad. But it makes me feel better sometimes.”  
“I understand that. I suppose that's all what I'm planning to do really does, make me feel better.”  
“Thank god, there has to be something.”  
“I've always visited my mother's grave on my birthday. And now I've just added Dora into the mix.”  
“It's your birthday?” George asked.  
“It was yesterday.”  
  
George immediately felt terrible. “I totally forgot. I'm so sorry, Remus. I want you to take the rest of the week off.”  
“What on earth am I going to do with all that time?”  
“Spend it with Teddy?”  
“Do you regularly spend time with three year olds?” Remus asked. “Prolonged amounts of time?”  
“No. I leave that to my brothers and their wives.”  
“I adore my son, but let's just say I'm very glad sometimes to have to provide.”  
“He reminds you of her, doesn't he?”  
  
Silence stretched between them and George regretted what he had said.  
  
“He does. And it hurts.”  
“That's shit. I'm sorry. Fred's dead, and every time I look in a mirror it's a reminder, but it's not my son.”  
  
They both sipped at their tea together.  
  
“You should get off,” George nodded at the door. “Don't let me hold you up any more.”  
“I will in a minute.”  
“And don't come back until next week.”  
“I was...” Remus closed his mouth, clearly having thought better of what he'd planned to say.  
“What?” George pressed.  
“I was going to ask if you'd like to... have dinner with me.” Remus definitely blushed that time.  
“Sure, when?” George hoped he sounded breezy and confident; inside his guts were twisting.  
“Well... I've suddenly got an excess of free time, so...” Remus shot him a smile.  
  
It was a flirtatious smile with lit eyes and a hopeful expression.  
  
“How about tomorrow night?” George suggested.  
“Where? Muggle or Magical?”  
“Not fussed – your choice. Just tell me when and where to be and I'll be there.”  
“I'll send word. It's been some time since I've had cause to wine and dine someone.”  
“How many people have you – er – wined and dined?” George grinned.  
“Three.” Remus laughed. “Oh, you were joking?”  
“Will I be the fourth?”  
“Absolutely.”  
  
It was George's turn to blush. He looked down at his tea.  
  
“Did I know any of them?” George asked playfully.  
“All of them.”  
“Wait, what?”  
  
Remus laughed again and got to his feet. He took his empty mug to the sink.  
  
“Maybe one day I'll tell you more about them. Dora you know you know. But the other two... they were men you also knew. But perhaps not _how_ you knew them.”  
“M-men?”  
  
George had been hoping. But there he had definite confirmation that Remus had to be at least bisexual to have been out with other men.  
  
“Yes. Is that... is that a problem, George?”  
“Not at all.”  
  
He got to his own feet and they stared at one another in silence.  
  
“I'll let you know about dinner, then?”  
“Yes. I'm looking forward to it.”  
“As am I.”  
  
After another moment of meaningful stares, Remus backed out of the flat, smiling to himself.  
  
George waited until he heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close before he let out a huge exhale of breath and swore to himself. He had a date.  
  
***  
He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn anything more than old jeans and a t-shirt when he wasn't wearing his shop robes. He'd given up on socks on a daily basis when they didn't appear to wash themselves. That being said, there was a massive pile of fresh clothing folded neatly on Fred's old bed. George had thought about doing it himself and then he'd come to his senses and taken it all to the launderette round the corner from the shop.  
  
What he _had_ done himself, however, was to give the flat a thorough clean and throw away seven bags of rubbish which had accumulated. It had been a cathartic process and his living space was much nicer for it. The collection of empty alcohol bottles had been quite disturbing at one point.  
  
George stood in front of the mirror and nervously tried to flatten his hair into something a little less mad. There was no point. It was better shorter but cutting it would mean he cared, and George really didn't care how he looked – or he hadn't, until Remus had invited him out for dinner.  
  
Still, there was nothing he could do about it with their dinner only ten minutes away. Everywhere would be shut and he didn't fancy making up a story for a Muggle barber about his ear.  
  
Remus didn't seem to have a problem with his mad hair, so George decided that he didn't either. He checked for his wand, shrugged into an old dragonhide jacket of Bill's and left the flat. It was smelt wholly unlike his personal space and was far too tidy, but if Remus wanted to come back with him... George wanted it to be nice. For there not to be a dozen dirty socks strewn over the couch and for the pathways to the other rooms to be clear.  
  
He locked the door to the flat and jogged down the stairs, taking care not to hit his head on the low beams. George ducked out of the back entrance and set the wards over the building as a whole.  
  
The night air was sweet and fresh and the sky was darkening above him. He made himself jump when he started to hum, making his way through the miniscule courtyard to the lane beyond. Remus had asked to meet outside The Dancing Dragon, a smaller, newer bar and restaurant than the Leaky Cauldron with a swankier vibe and good cocktails. He'd been there several times with Fred. They'd both pulled on the last visit. He smiled to himself.  
  
They were the good times. They were still painful to remember but at least they didn't make him want to die any more.  
  
He'd blocked out much of the trauma of the Battle of Hogwarts. After the initial shock of Fred's death had worn off, he'd ground to a halt. Catatonia, St Mungo's had said. He'd not spoken for four whole days, not eaten, not drunk a single drop beyond what his mum could spoon into his mouth.  
  
George remembered very little of it and hadn't taken the time to find out. He assumed that made him selfish – that he had never gone back and asked his family or friends how they had coped with the death and destruction of that night in early May. How they felt about losing Fred. It had all been about him but not because he'd made it so, but because he was struggling to cope with the fact that for the first time in his life, he was alone. His shadow, his other half – gone.  
  
_Stop it._  
  
He could feel the darkness hovering over him in just thinking about Fred. He had to stop if he wanted to enjoy his night out with Remus which he did, very much. He rounded the corner and the pub was before him.  
  
Remus was waiting for him as promised, leaning back against the wall with his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Hey.” George announced himself quietly and Remus immediately sprung upright and took his hands out. “Easy mate, I'm not the Queen.”  
  
They smiled at one another and George held Remus' gaze until it became awkward.  
  
“Shall we go in?” Remus gestured to the door. “I'm starving.”  
“Me too,” George said for something to say.  
  
They entered and between them found a quiet table out of the way of the main bar and the more popular seating areas which were already busy and loud. George took his jacket off. Before he sat down, he offered Remus a drink.  
  
“For forgetting your birthday,” he added by way of explanation.  
“You don't -”  
“I do,” he said firmly. “What'll it be?”  
  
He approached the bar, teeth on edge because of the echoing noise around him. He rarely ventured out at night these days apart from going to his brothers' homes. He gave the barman instructions and waited. He paid. He gladly wove out of the crowd carefully carrying a pint of cider for himself and a Firewhiskey and ginger ale for Remus.  
  
George sat back down. “There we go.”  
  
Remus was engrossed in the menu, his brow furrowed with the important decision before him.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, without looking up. “I don't know why I'm looking at this, I'm desperate for a steak I haven't had to cook myself.” He closed the menu and offered it to George.  
“No, I know what I'm having too.” He sipped at his pint. “Been here too many times.” He tapped the top of the menu where his favourite resided.  
  
Remus smiled at him and pulled out his wand. George watched as the older wizard tapped the stick of wood over their choices. The menu then flashed green to indicate that their order had been approved and then disappeared into thin air.  
  
“Hope they're quick tonight,” Remus said hopefully.  
“Have you not eaten today or something?”  
“I had a sandwich at lunch but have been running round after Teddy all day... wears me out and makes me famished.”  
“He's got a lot of energy. I take it Andromeda was grateful?”  
“She was. I can't blame her. She's lost her husband and her daughter and yet she looks after Teddy whenever I need her to, and she goes days where he's the only person she speaks to. Ted's great, but his conversations tend to be quite simple and often focus an awful lot around poo. Or food.”  
  
George laughed. “To be fair, I know a few adults like that as well.”  
“Well, let's not name names.”  
“You should ask mum to take Teddy sometimes. She's already running her own little nursery. One more won't hurt when she raised seven of us.”  
“I don't know how she managed it, at such an awful time... the first war was no time to have a babe-in-arms. You didn't know what sort of world you were giving them.” He shook his head.  
“Well, we all made it through _that_ part. Somehow.”  
  
They both sipped their drinks. A loud group of punters burst into peeling laughter. George winced. He turned his attention back to his drink and noticed Remus watching him.  
  
“What?” he asked nervously.  
“Nothing.” Remus just smiled at him.  
“Sure?” George felt colour darkening his cheeks. The last thing he needed was a full-on Weasley blush attack.  
“You look... very... handsome, tonight,” Remus said, hesitant and quiet.  
  
Taken aback, George looked down at the table. “Thank you. So do you.”  
  
For wont of anything better, he shifted one of his knees under the table until it connected with Remus' leg. He looked up, hoping this wouldn't be crossing the line, but Remus sipped his drink again and didn't move his leg.  
  
A familiar tingle started in his thighs. It had been a long time since George had felt anything like that from another person. He was best friends with his right hand, but beyond that since Fred's death he'd had no interest in sex or even any of the stops before that destination. He'd had attractions – he'd found Remus attractive for months, but if he'd not been asked out to dinner he didn't think he would ever have acted on it.  
  
_You sad, sad little man._  
  
He finished his pint for something to do.  
  
***  
Food eaten, more drinks had, dessert shared. The night was wearing on the pub around them was loud and getting more crowded by the minute. They were still tucked away in their little corner and, as he was thrilled to acknowledge, their legs were still touching beneath the table. George felt much more relaxed after his fourth pint and he didn't care so much about the racket in the pub.  
  
Remus, however, stifled a yawn behind his hand and looked tired.  
  
“Should we make a move?” George asked, patting his jacket.  
“Yes. I think that's probably a good idea.”  
“I'll go and pay.” George was up before Remus could protest. “Meet me outside?”  
  
He didn't wait for an answer, but took himself off to pay for their food and the drinks they'd added to the bill. He supposed he should have asked Remus to split it with him, but he decided he'd put it down to a birthday treat should the other man raise it or try to offer him any money.  
  
“Thanks, have a good night,” he said to the barman who handed him his change.  
  
George dropped half of it back into the tips box on the counter and pocketed the rest.  
  
The night had cooled off considerably outside and he shivered in his jacket. Remus was waiting across the lane. They both started walking without either of them having to say a word.  
  
As dates went, it hadn't been a particularly thrilling one. George could remember one night which very nearly ended up in a foursome, fuelled by a Muggle bottle of Tequila and which would have seen him and Fred cross a line which they had nearly crossed many a time before.  
  
In his darker moments, he regretted that they'd ever regarded the line at all. That they'd not just done it.  
  
“Do you have to rush home?” He blurted suddenly.  
“No, Andromeda has Teddy.”  
“Oh, good.”  
  
The memory of what he missed out on with Fred spurred him to grab Remus' hand. It was warm and strong and he couldn't keep his own fingers from shaking slightly with excitement. Remus assessed him and quickened his step.  
  
“Come in for a drink?” George suggested, though he could tell he didn't have to. Remus would have come without it.  
  
Remus nodded in response. George led the way to the back of the shop, across the courtyard and cleared the wards. He ushered Remus in and closed the door behind them, trapping them chest-to-chest in the poky hallway.  
  
George extricated himself and headed up the stairs to unlock the flat door, which he did. He was so glad he'd tidied up – it actually smelt like a habitable place. He lit the candles and gestured Remus in.  
  
“Wow.”  
“Yeah, I know. I thought it was high time I stopped living in my own filth. Give me your coat.”  
  
He even made the effort to hang both of their jackets up on the hooks near the door – something he'd not done for a very long time.  
  
“I don't think I've ever seen this so tidy,” Remus commented as he sat down.  
“Yeah, I wouldn't get used to it,” advised George with a grin. “I'll just get those drinks...”  
  
He started pulling open kitchen cupboards, searching for -  
  
“Shit!” He exclaimed loudly.  
“What?”  
“I already drank what I was going to give you. I forgot.” He turned and pulled a dusty bottle off the top of the fridge. “I only have some wine which is about five years old.” He blew the dust off the label and began to cough as it flew down his throat.  
  
His eyes were watering by the time he finished.  
  
“Sorry.” He swallowed deeply and sniffed. “I think it's Blackberry Wine. Maybe. Who knows.”  
  
George shrugged and pulled out two glasses. He had to rummage around for a corkscrew, given that he'd long been downing Muggle spirits with their easy screw top caps. He poured sloppily thanks to his still shaking hands. He nearly dropped the bottle when Remus was suddenly close to him.  
  
“If it's been sealed for that long, it needs to aerate a little...” He picked up one of the glasses and began to swirl the wine around inside it gently.  
  
George watched him repeat the move, looking at his long, slender fingers and the pale skin of his hand. It was nice until the bones in Remus' wrist gave a loud cracking sound. The glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor between them and the wine splashed everywhere.  
  
“Fuck!” Remus moaned. “I'm sorry, George.”  
“It's nothing.” In moments he had cleaned up the wine, fixed the broken glass and set a mop to properly clean the floor with some Magical Mess Remover. “Sorted.”  
  
Still, Remus looked embarrassed.  
  
“Is your arm okay?” George asked, pouring the wine once again.  
“I think so. Sometimes I can dislocate parts of my body without even trying, see...” he winced. “And leading up to the moon everything hurts more...”  
“That's shit,” George said candidly.  
“It's pretty shit,” Remus agreed.  
  
George suddenly felt very tired himself. He'd done more socialising that evening than he'd done for months.  
  
An image of falling asleep on Remus' shoulder lodged firmly in his mind.  
  
“Let's sit down.” He gestured to the sofa. “Before the mop starts mopping us both.”  
  
Remus followed him and they sat down side by side. George took a moment to appreciate his handiwork – the flat really did look much better.  
  
“You don't recognise it, do you?” Remus asked with a laugh. “It doesn't feel like your house.”  
“It doesn't. I guess... I just stopped caring. What was the point of tidying up? Nobody ever comes here. And then I suppose it just helped to keep everyone out and let me carry on living my little hermit life.”  
  
George drank some wine. It wasn't entirely terrible.  
  
“And now you don't want to keep people out any more?”  
  
He thought about how to answer – the truth being that he had only really tidied up so that he could bring Remus back to the flat if he was agreeable to it.  
  
“Well, there's one person I specifically didn't want to keep out any more, even though he never stayed away when the mess was here. When he had to put up with his boss not turning up in the morning and finding him hungover in his pants.”  
  
George found the courage to meet Remus' eye.  
  
“You. I didn't want to keep you out any more.”  
  
Remus said nothing but his expression talked more than enough. He was touched, George could tell, and trying to figure out how to respond. As though a hand had firmly planted between his shoulder blades and pushed him, George leant forward and kissed the older man.  
  
It had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone but it came back to him just as readily as Remus came alive against his mouth.  
  
“Put the wine down,” Remus instructed.  
  
George shoved both glasses at the coffee table and didn't care if they landed safely or not. The tingling feeling he'd experienced in the pub had returned as a full on fire and Remus was giving him the sort of look which warranted such fire.  
  
He exhaled slightly as Remus pulled him close and kissed him again. It felt immense to have a man running his hands over his body – something he supposed he'd never properly experienced before. He'd been younger before and his partners had been of his own age. But Remus was over forty and worldly and most definitely more experienced than George felt.  
  
“I want you,” Remus mumbled somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, where he was kissing and nipping alternately. “I want you so much, George.”  
“Then have me. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.”  
  
Remus kissed a particularly tender spot just behind his earlobe and George only just held onto his dignity. He could have come then and there, but the night looked too promising to waste.  
  
“I don't want to ruin... everything,” Remus finished blandly. He pulled back and looked at George, clearly worried.  
“It won't. We're both adults.”  
“I don't want to lose our friendship. It means a lot to me.”  
“It means a lot to me too.” George cupped Remus' face in his hand. “Which is why I want this, because I think it could mean a hell of a lot more. Don't you?”  
“I do... but...”  
“Say what you're thinking, Remus. Don't tread on eggshells.”  
“I don't want to make anything worse when you finally seem to be coming out on the other side of your grief. And to further that, to do anything to ruin my own recovery from the bereavement of two people I loved within a few short years of one another.”  
  
George blinked once before it twigged in his mind. _Sirius._  
  
“Maybe this step requires company.” He chewed his bottom lip. “Maybe this is how it's meant to be.”  
“And what if it's not?”  
“Then we can deal with that when we come to it... like we have everything else which has happened since the people we loved died and left us behind.”  
  
It hurt him to say it, but he did it anyway. It seemed to dawn on him then that he was sitting in the flat that he had shared with his twin brother, talking about moving on from his death. Once upon a time that might have been catastrophic for him, but it felt right.  
  
Remus moved to hold his hand and George let him. He leant close for a softer kiss which George gave.  
  
His nerves were on edge as he took that hand and pressed it to his own crotch. Remus looked him in the eye.  
  
“Is that what you want?”  
“Yeah. Do you?”  
“Only if you're sure.”  
“I put it there, didn't I?”  
“That doesn't always mean yes.”  
“Well it does here.”  
“So I should just...?”  
“Yes, you should.”  
“Okay then.”  
  
George moaned as Remus squeezed him in hand. “More.”  
  
In the past he'd thought himself rather smooth. Fred had claimed he could charm his way into a chastity belt if he wanted to. Sitting there in his too-clean flat with an older wizard rubbing his dick, George felt anything but. Perhaps it had been too long and he was too excited.  
  
“Stop worrying what I think,” Remus instructed in a whisper. “And just feel.”  
  
George couldn't reply as Remus kissed him again, tightening the grip he had on his erection at the same time. What he did instead was put his own hands to good use, working open the buttons of Remus' shirt and pushing it back over his shoulders. He felt the raised welts of scars under his fingertips, some smooth, some rough – old and new. There would be some he would only be able to see as the wounds caused by them had happened so long ago. He broke the kiss and looked.  
  
“Don't bother, nothing to see there,” Remus commented sourly.  
  
There were hundreds of scars, George saw. They littered skin which was an unhealthy shade of pale. He could see the starkness of Remus' veins spreading over his shoulders and up into his neck, so many that it seemed he was made of translucent paper rather than flesh. His chest was flat with no definition and a pair of pink nipples, with greying hair curling between them and leading down onto his stomach. That was also flat without any sculpture.  
  
When George glanced upwards he was so moved by the expression of self-hatred on Remus' face that he buried his face in the man's chest. He kissed amongst the hairs there.  
  
“I think you're beautiful,” he murmured, loud enough that Remus could hear him.  
  
When he didn't respond, George gave him privacy. He didn't demand an answer, knowing it would almost certainly be some kind of rebuttal. Instead he kissed his way down, pausing only to swipe at the navel with his tongue and then to kiss he bulge in Remus' lap when he reached it.  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath from above and George hesitated, wondering if he'd gone too far. Then he felt the warm of Remus' hand on his head, pushing it down so that his nose pressed into the fabric.  
  
He mouthed at it, taking in the hardness beneath it. He made deft work of the button and zip, pulling the trousers aside until he found underwear. He mouthed again at the softer, warmer fabric. He could smell Remus so strongly that he shuddered. It was a smell which had grown to comfort him over the years – something rich and chocolatey, tinged with the usual sweat and heat which could be found south of the waist.  
  
It stoked something in his belly which had been dormant for a long time.  
  
He mouthed over the fabric with rougher lips than he had used before. Remus moaned gently and increased the pressure pushing his head down.  
  
It came back to him that the last time he'd done such a thing, he'd been on his knees blindfolded.  
  
_Good times._  
  
He wasn't even aware of what his mouth was doing until something hit the back of his throat. Eyes stinging, he pulled up slightly to catch his breath. Remus stroked his hair.  
  
George closed his eyes. Something felt very right. He felt lighter.  
  
***  
  
“We should probably get some sleep,” Remus whispered. His voice was thick and low.  
  
George was already half there. It was four in the morning and he was exhausted – the kind of exhaustion which went hand-in-hand with a night of hard drinking and sex. That was accurate, because they'd finished the wine and been together all night. They were tangled together in his bed, which he'd enlarged to be comfortable for two. The duvet was twisted around their bodies trapping them together as one being. Remus' thigh was over his own. He was practically pinned to the mattress.  
  
He couldn't remember the last time he'd still been awake at four in the morning for pleasure's sake.  
  
Remus pressed a kiss to his shoulder and left his lips there, soft and puffy against his skin.  
  
“Stay with me,” he replied, possessively tugging one of Remus' hands to his chest. “I don't want you to go.”  
“I'm not capable of going anywhere.” Remus' chuckle sent warm breath tickling over George's neck. “And, more importantly, I _don't want_ to go any where.”  
“Teddy?”  
“Andromeda had plans to take him to the zoo. He's been dying to go since she read him some of Dora's old children's books, but... I couldn't bring myself to take him.”  
“No, I supposed caged animals aren't exactly your thing...” George made a face at the insensitivity.  
“No. I have vivid recollections and nightmares about visiting the Ministry as a five-year-old and being told that if I couldn't control myself, then they'd have no choice but to restrain me. They thought it prudent to show me exactly where. I still wake up screaming sometimes.”  
  
George couldn't deal with the thought of that. As long as he'd known him, Remus had been a source of laughter and warmth. Love. His status as a Werewolf had hardly mattered by the time everyone at school had found out – he was one of those teachers who just made you feel like you were special – like they wanted you to take on the world and win. To imagine a tiny, helpless Remus locked up somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry was heartbreaking. He turned over with some difficulty, nearly strangling himself on the sheets, but forcing himself to face his bedfellow.  
  
“You deserved better.” He traced one finger over Remus' lower lip. “So much better.”  
“Maybe. Maybe this is exactly how life was meant to be. It's been terrible in places but it's also been fantastic. Is that not how everyone's life goes, in the end?”  
“I s'pose. I don't know. I think my life falls into before Fred's death, and after Fred's death, and the after hasn't exactly played out so well... so far.”  
  
Remus assessed him for a moment and then smiled. “You have so much more life to live.”  
“It's taken me three years to want to.”  
“Time heals most things, you'll find.”  
“I don't think it'll ever heal me. Not to be dramatic. But I... just the fabric of my life was just ripped up to shreds. I couldn't hurt more if he'd been physically attached to me.”  
  
George closed his eyes as Remus tucked some hair behind his ear.  
  
“A person doesn't have to be healed to carry on.”  
“Thank god or I'd've popped my clogs months ago.”  
“And then we wouldn't have had last night. This morning. However you want to describe it.”  
“I describe it as awesome,” George said happily, nuzzling his head into the pillow.  
  
They were silent for a few moments, until George felt the immediate urge to say something else.  
  
“Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up? That we can see where this goes?”  
“Where do you want it to go?” Remus' brow was creased with concern which George didn't quite understand.  
“I want you,” he said simply. “That's all for now. Just you. Here with me.”  
“I think I can do that,” Remus murmured.  
  
He looked shattered.  
  
“We should sleep,” George said. “We'll talk more later.”  
  
Remus nodded and pulled George properly into his arms.  
  
It had been even longer since he'd had anybody to cuddle after sex, George realised.  
  
It was good to be held.  
  
_-fin-_


End file.
